Rest Your Weary Head
by hepster
Summary: Just a small glimpse into the end of a long, bloody day. {Quick fic-let based off the zombie apocalypse; Shelma}


It was dark.

It was loud.

It was awful.

Rain pummeled the leaky rooftop that sheltered their huddled, frail bodies that lie in the corner. For as loud as it was, the groans of the undead outside still rang loudly through the tin walls of the smell of rotted flesh mingled with the scent of fresh mud and traces of iron from their wounds.

They were both shaking from their run to this safe haven. Who knew how long it would be safe, though? It had been a miracle to have gone undetected by the horde outside, but it was something to be grateful for.

"Like, how many of those things do you think are out there?"

"I don't know, Shag."

Velma huffed, crossing her arms closer to her to keep what little body heat she had left to herself. Shaggy sat next to her, scrunched up in the corner and absent mindedly petting Scooby's head. He avoided looking at the bandage where the lower half of his leg used to be; He was still asleep from when he'd passed out from the pain.

There hadn't been enough time after the bite to give him pain killers, so Velma had just gone straight to work as Shaggy decapitated the thing that had once been human and then fell to his best friend's side and told him how brave he was and promised him all the Scooby Snax in the world as soon as he woke up.

Whether or not he would still be Scooby Doo when he did remained to be seen.

Velma hadn't spoken more than a few words since then. Neither of them were sure how long it had been since the makeshift operation. She'd lost her watch ages ago and the cell phone batteries had died just as Freddie had called to let them know him and Daphne were bunking out in the basement of headquarters.

The lanky young man had been the one making most of the decisions; he'd thrown the corpse into the farthest corner and covered it with a tarp to attempt to mask the smell and memory of what had happened, he'd been the one to double bolt the front door and lock the back one tight. He'd shut off the one hanging lightbulb that illuminated the storage shed to keep the walkers from seeing them and had drawn the shudders to allow for at least a little bit of comfort from the outside Hell.

Shaggy didn't question her silence. It was obvious that she needed her Velma time and who was he to deny her?

He took a quick glance at his Great Dane's face to make sure that nothing had changed. He was still out like a light, but his breathing seemed to be a lot less laboured now; He took it as a good sign that the infection or whatever was causing this chaos hadn't affected Scooby. Hopefully, he'd wake up soon so they could all try and get back to the Mystery Machine. It was only a few blocks away, but the grocery store had been a nightmare and the parking lot was much too full of the undead for them to get to when this whole thing had started.

Shaggy looked back up to Velma to see if she might be ready to help him brainstorm, but the sight of her face buried in her knees and shaking shoulders made all of those thoughts go right out the window.

"Velma?"

"This isn't possible, Shaggy." Even though her voice was muffled, he could hear the harsh tone make its way too his ears. "This shouldn't be happening…."

Her inflection cracked as she looked up to meet his gaze; Shaggy was shocked to see tears behind the thick frames of her glasses. Velma never cried. Ever.

She collapsed into him when he implored her with a gentle nod of his head. The free hand that wasn't gently petting Scooby moved to her back as he soothed her with small circular motions.

_It must be so hard for her._

Velma was a women of logic and rationality and whatever was happening in the outside world, whatever was causing the dead to rise, defied all sanity.

Velma was a strong woman, but even the strongest of minds could be tested and broken at some point in time.

After a few minutes, she showed no signs of calming down. He checked to make sure Scooby was still okay and moved his arm to hold her closer to him, kissing the top of her head.

"Velma," he murmured into the softness of her hair (he ignored the small stains of blood that dotted her scalp). The deep breath she took to steady herself resonated through his bones. She used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe away the stray tears that stained her cheeks and finally managed to look directly at him.

"You're so brave, Shaggy. You're so, so brave," she enunciated every word, like it was of absolute importance that he knew something that couldn't possibly be true. She became exasperated at his disbelief. "I mean it! I just-"

"It's okay, V. I know."

She managed the closest thing to a smile that she could, and he kissed away a stray tear that had fallen and ran a river through her skin and then moved to her lips and lingered there. The small bit of pressure and the sigh of affection that met his inlet allowed him, just for a moment, to forget why they were huddled together in the first place.

The sun still shined, the grass was still green, and the end of the world was still a figment of literature and radical thinkers.

They broke apart slowly, trying to let whatever small sense of normalcy last as long as possible. Velma repositioned herself to rest her head on Shaggy's shoulder while he moved one hand back to run through the short fur on Scooby's head.

He could tell that something was still bothering her from the way she drummed her fingers against his lap. The hungry moans of the undead and thunder from the storm filled the room for a moment before she spoke again. "We should probably go back out there."

It didn't take a genius to know that she was right. There was a lot to plan for and he couldn't even begin to imagine where they should start.

"But," Velma continued. "I'm tired. You're tired. We still need to figure out how we're getting out of here, and I haven't really been able to think straight with what's happening out there…"

"Like, catnap?"

"Catnap."

That was certainly a satisfying answer for him. As dead tired as he was, Shaggy knew she probably needed the rest more than he did and Scooby wasn't showing any signs of waking up soon. He let his rangy limbs relax into a comfortable position and she followed right behind him.

They didn't speak a word; she found the hand that was gently stroking an exposed patch of skin on her hip that her sweater didn't cover and intertwined their fingers. When her eyes met his, they were still red and full of fear, but the little gleam of light that always seemed to shine with her was starting to come back.

She gave him a quick kiss, full of reassurance that she would be back to herself in no time, before settling into the folds of his shirt and the comfort of his arms and fell asleep.

Shaggy couldn't really help but be lulled into a sense of peace, even though he knew he should be terrified. And he was; the zombies from his horror films were no longer a product of fantasy, but that reality didn't bother him so much anymore.

Adapting to your surroundings was a skill easily mastered from running away from men disguised as monsters. The stakes were a lot higher and there was going to be heartbreak and misery and there was no certainty for what was to come.

But despite how bleak the future seemed, he knew they'd be okay.

They always were.


End file.
